Drawing Nearer
by CookingKiller
Summary: -Shawn/Hunter- More like pre-slash. 'And, somehow, he's not as stupidly scared as he thought he'd be, sitting behind him on a motorcycle.'


_Set in the 90s._

_Also, absolutely random._

* * *

The speed is incredible. Only his hold on the motorcycle reminds him he's not flying, doesn't have wings (but _we're like the Angels_, he said). His hand goes to grab Shawn's waist sometimes, when the vehicle tilts on the side, head so closer to the road while turning. They forewent helmets, they're (dumb) tough like that, but the thought of his skull breaking on concrete still passes through his mind. And Shawn, he's sure Shawn would just fly away for miles and crash somewhere, always seems so light to him. But he's still steering with no problem right now, his long hair flowing around freely and swiftly brushing Hunter's nose from times to times. And, somehow, he's not as stupidly scared as he thought he'd be, sitting behind him on a bike.

The engine roars and Shawn goes even faster.

It's like they entered in one of those road trip movies, with the hot sun burning above and the desert around them. Can stand wearing the leather jacket, though, the speed refreshing. It's one thing he has always wanted to do, riding one of those things into that kind of sun, surrounded by nothing but sand and heated concrete. Sometimes the riders would just go on forever, the movie would end before they'd set a single foot on the ground, and he'd wonder if there was a secret place they were all heading to, somewhere. And maybe Shawn knows that place. At the rate they're going, they'll be there in no time.

He hears Shawn laugh loudly and the cycle tilts dangerously again. He's never looked at the road so closely, never took the time to notice little rocks and occasional holes. His heartbeat speeds up, along with the motorcycle. Just how fast are they going now?

And it hits him again, that feeling of being completely free. He's right here, with Shawn, alone in some lost part of Arizona, nobody is going to tell them what they shouldn't do (they're rarely told what they_ should_ do, they all know that already) and if they decide to ride forever, well, who's gonna stop them? Strangely not a fully happy feeling, still. Maybe, because he knows they'll never decide to do that.

Or because they're definitely going to crash if Shawn keeps going faster.

Hunter taps on his shoulder, trying to get his attention without startling him too much. Shawn turns his head slightly, never going slower. Big black sunglasses hide the blue eyes from him, and Hunter hopes he's still surveying the road despite the gesture. He smiles broadly, goes back at chewing his eternal gum, and grins again. Makes him want to smile too.

And Shawn speaks (yells) before him. "Wanna go faster?" That huge grin telling Hunter his goal is to freak him out. Or try to.

"That thing can go faster?" Unconsciously holds onto Shawn a little tighter. "No way, you're going to—"

"Can't hear ya !"

And a bunch of blonde hair slaps him in face when he does go faster, yelling some 'woohoo' for emphasis. He just hits his shoulder again, more forcefully than before. This time when his head turns, there's no smile; only incessant chewing. And after a few seconds, the vehicle is stopped, after a sudden (not so) controlled skid, ending up on the sandy side of the road. Hunter closes his eyes a moment, to calm his breathing and avoid some of the dirty dust surrounding them. Just mumbles, "fucking crazy."

"You wanted to ride."

Knows that tone. The prima donna is unhappy about something. "I want to live too." His ears are slightly buzzing.

"Oh you don't trust me." Sunglasses stare at him, accusingly, he guesses. Shawn's mouth a thin line.

"It's not that..."

"Fuck yeah, it is." And he finally spits that gum he's been chewing for...centuries, it always seems. "The road is fucking empty and there's no rain here in case you didn't notice, so _obviously_, I'm the problem."

The hot weather is getting to him now that they're immobile, and he feels the leather heating up. Just makes him want to end the conversation as fast as he can. Always about going fast. "No, Shawn, you're fine, I trust you." The exasperated tone won't help.

But Shawn merely lets an annoyed sigh out. And starts the engine. "Gotta go back, anyway."

"Why?" he blurts out without thinking.

Thick eyebrows go up. "Because we have people to wrestle, remember? Your nightjob?" Always giggles at 'nightjob' for some reason.

"Right."

Shawn just stares at him, clenches his jaw. Then, "fucking talkative today, aren't you."

Can only roll his eyes. And when they set on the smaller man again, he's turned around already, bike now going forward. On its way to go as fast as before.

They never go back to where they come from, in those movies.

And the bike stops suddenly for the second time. "What did you say?"

"What?" _They never go back._ Said that aloud. "Just...you know, riders in movies, they don't go back to their...nightjobs."

"Really." And it's one of those rare times where he feels, actually feels more childish than Shawn. "You want us to ride into the sun and all that cool rider stuff?"

He simply shrugs. "Sure." And Shawn laughs.

"I'm cool enough already." Starts rolling, still in the same direction, towards the small city where they'll definitely have to crash on the ground a few times. Shawn at least will get to fly, though. And needs to yell again, now. "And you'd have to deal with me forever."

"Not a problem, " he yells back.

Once again, gets to see just a side of Shawn's smiling face turned his way.

And his hand, the one that was barely resting on the slim waist, is taken and it's his whole arm that's sliding around him now, Shawn's own hand holding firmly for a moment – _don't let go_ – then going back at steering the bike. The speed going back at being incredible. And, of course, sitting that way, can only be less apprehensive than before. Better balance.

And he does trust him. And somehow, closer touch seems to prove him he's right to. Better balance. Between them.

It's the closest he's been to him in months, since the day he was accepted into the group with the warm welcome that was Shawn's icy stare. Today sunglasses hid it, for the best. And he got the broad smiles.

"Could do that someday."

The loud voice interrupts his thoughts, and he can only ask what he's talking about.

"Keep on riding. You know."

Barely hears him over the noise of the engine. "Well, Kev and the others may not appreciate." If they would do it, in reality. Sadly says it, but with a chuckle. It's all humorous, anyway. You don't talk about that seriously. Do you.

Head turns a little, can see he's chewing again (when the hell...?)and Shawn never answers anything to that.

Simply, "hold tight."

And just speeds up.


End file.
